#he's a liar when he's at his weakest

[thefirstlioveyou]

mike's gay subtext runs so deep and i love it so much. i love any analysis about mike, but his gay coding is something so special to me and will always be tbh. he is obviously so much more than his sexuality. however, there's no way he gets all this subtext just for his sexuality to only be brought up briefly next season and his main plotline just be about "ok i finally broke up with el!! time to get with will! i am so confident in my sexuality! it's not like my reagan supporting family has any effect on me whatsoever! i just wanna kiss will this whole season and be glued to him!"

mike has to process his relationship with el and where it went wrong first. he has to come to a better understanding with why he stayed so long with her, why he feels the need to keep on a normal path. sure he wants to be needed and feels as if he's not (in the way el is, who he deems as a hero), but why? what is it about himself that he believes isn't worthy of being that traditional hero he wishes he could be? what is it about himself that keeps him from being the boy society expects of him? one, it's being into dnd. the town is out for blood for the hellfire club now. his parents never took his interest seriously as he did and only mocked him for it. they pushed him to grow up. but it obviously doesn't end there. he's not just insecure with his interests. there's a reason why they're hiding that mike is gay with all effort possible. it is a plot point - an important one. written literally in the show's story bible, mike's insecurities lie in not having kissed a girl. sounds like sexuality issues to me. sounds like something that still needs to be brought to light. why is he insecure about it?

also, in his first s5 bts, he's literally staring at the one way sign pointed at his closet (assuming it's still there) possibly hinting at what could be on Mike's mind this season.

they've barely discussed mike at all this whole time in interviews, which catches my attention a lot. finn gets very vague about him and immediately shifts conversation. we've received more about el and will. the most we've heard about mike is the fact he's on "his own journey" in regards to his dynamic with will, and it sounds like something we weren't meant to even hear.

mike's been on a journey to accepting several parts of himself throughout the whole show, and the final thing he'll have to accept is his sexuality this season.

s2 - his parents tell him to get rid of toys, mocking the fact he has emotional value to them. he's watching his friends crush on max, while he doesn't understand it one bit and feels left out. he's annoyed by it. by the end of the season, he's watching all his friends dance with a girl at the snowball while he sits alone, not even waiting/looking for el. just waiting for them to be done.

s3- he finally dates el, and his attention is completely taken by her. this is his attempt to be normal in the exact same way his friends were doing the previous season. this is his attempt to keep on a normal path the way everyone else is. but now he's realizing he messed up. this confuses him, because he genuinely believed this was the right thing to do - that's what he's observing from everyone else. if his friends do it, then he should too. will calls him out on not wanting to play dnd anymore and instead wanting to go out with el all the time. mike implies they have to grow up and move on (internalized behavior from his parents' attitude toward his interests)

s4- he finally learns to be himself and take pride in the fact he's part of the "nerds and freaks" of school. he's now embracing it by attending a dnd club and wearing his club shirt proudly - definitely something s3 him wouldn't do. but according to finn, mike is still trying to keep on a normal path this season. he wants to be normal. this is obviously referring to him being gay and his performative behavior with el - this is something that he hasn't yet overcame because of his lie in the monologue. mike decided to lie and stay in this loveless relationship for the sake of el's life. in the end, he still continues to keep on the normal path. (and in a way... is the reason why they lost.)

s5- so mike's accepted his nerdy self and is embracing it but now has yet to accept one last thing according to finn, and that's implied to be his sexuality. he must face the truth that he doesn't love el and never has (in that way). he has to be truthful to himself entirely this season in order for them to win. he has to realize his worth despite not matching society's expectations of him. his heart has to fully be in it!

[vaguely-concerned]

I understand and agree with a lot of the frustrations about the shortcomings of Inquisition as a story. but sometimes when I hear people complain about the chosen one narrative in it I do want to just be like... you know it's a deconstruction of the concept more than anything, right. the inquisitor isn't actually chosen by anything except stumbling into the wrong (right?) room at the right (wrong?) time because they like, heard a noise or whatever. or if you think they are chosen, as many do in-universe, that's something you have to take on faith, the maker-or-whoever moves in mysterious ways indeed-style. the Inquisitor isn't actually a Destined Chosen One, they're a Just Some Guy in a fancy hat, self-delusions of grandeur to taste as you'd prefer.

a running thread that goes through all of the personal quests of the companions is the concept of a comforting lie vs. an uncomfortable truth, upholding old corrupt structures vs. disrupting them, and the role of faith in navigating that. (blackwall the warden vs. thom rainier the liar and murderer. hissrad vs. the iron bull, or is that the other way around? cassandra and the seekers -- do we tell the truth about what we find, even if it means dismantling the old order of the world? and so on.) and your inquisitor IS at the same time a comforting lie (a necessary one, in dark times? the game seems to ask) and an uncomfortable truth (we are the result of random fickle chance, no protective hand is held over the universe, it's on us to make a better world because the maker sure as hell won't lift a divine finger to help anyone, should he against all odds exist). faith wielded for political power... where's the point that it crosses the line into ugliness? is it before it even begins? what's the alternative? will anyone listen to the truth, if you tell it?

interesting how you also get a mix of companion agency in this -- you have characters like dorian who ALWAYS choose one side of the comforting lie vs. uncomfortable truth dichotomy. he will always make up his own mind to go back to tevinter and try to dismantle the corruption of the old system no matter what you say, or how you try to influence him. meanwhile iron bull is on the complete opposite side of the spectrum -- so psychologically trapped and mangled, caught in an impossible spiritual catch-22, that his sense of identity is left entirely to you and your mercy. you cannot change dorian in any way that matters; you can be his friend or not, support him or not, but he is whole no matter what. you are given incredible and potentially destructive-to-him power over bull's soul. it's really cool (and heartbreaking) to think about.

this is a game about how history will eat you even while you're still alive, and shape you into whatever image it pleases to serve it, and for all your incredible power right now you are powerless in the face of the gravitational force of time -- of more than time, of History. you won't recognize yourself in what History will make of you, because you belong to it now. you don't belong to yourself anymore and you never will again. the further you were from what it needs from you to begin with, the more you will find yourself distorted in its funhouse mirror. (why hello there inquisitor ameridan, same hat!)

and to me this is so much the core of what Dragon Age is about right from the Origins days -- how and by whom history gets written, the inherent unreliable narration of it all. I hope you like stories, Inquisitor. You are one now.

I do think it's probably still the weakest of the games narratively, and it's hampered by its structure and bloated systems. but I also find it disingenous to say that there's nothing deeper or actually interesting going on with it, thematically. if you're willing to engage with it there is Some Real Shit going on under the high fantasy-tinted surface.

[diejager]

how does a (monster AU) phoenix! reader sound? ...I kinda imagine 141 (except price) getting a heart attack when reader takes a bullet and bursts into flames and then a heap of ash, and then (im pulling a harry potter description of pheonix but its ur choice) the most ugly bird or something pokes their head out of the ashes and they're like '...oh'.

I remember watching Fawkes burning and turning to ash before he popped his head out. So adorable.

Ashes Cw: burning, death, rebirth, tell me if I missed any.

Ghost knew when someone was lying, able to sniff out a liar within a mile. Your dimmer smile, shorter laughter and exhaiusted expression, nothing seemed to make your days better than a warm bump of tea once or twice a day to sooth the ache in your bones and the strain in your muscles. He’d approach you with a clear mind, wanting to get to the bottom of your sickness, why you’d occasionally cough, voice weak and breathy until it cracked. You told him you were fine, that it was just the weather affecting you, but he’d seen this kind of sickness before, a cold that sunk into the bones and clogged every sinuses with intent —sick and vulnerable.

He wasn’t alone in this thought, Alejandro and Gaz shared similar doubts, coming forth to Price with their fears rather than sneaking around like he did, but Price had waved them off, telling them that it was a seasonal thing, you got sick from time to time and rose back from it as if death failed to catch you. This did not seem like something simple and mundane, Ghost could see death follow you like it followed him, it was ever present, so much so that Alejandro and Horangi - the two with the weakest nose out of the four - could smell it ooze off you like a dark miasma plaguing your body.

It seemed as if the both of you shared something that the others weren’t privy to, a low whisper in the dark that they failed to catch or the secret you shared through confidentiality higher than even a colonel. The captain knew you before you joined them, forming a tight connection through past trauma and fuck ups. Perhaps that’s why Price seemed almost chipper about your saddening state.

It seemed that Ghost was kept in as much darkness as the rest, the higher ups had kept it hidden from him, from König and from Alejandro who should’ve had the jurisdiction to have access to your documents. Especially after seeing you burst into flames after being shot in the neck by a surviving sniper (Ghost was quick to shoot him down), body gone in a coud of ash and dusted feathers. He panicked, but he wasn’t the only one to rush towards what remained of you. Despite their panicked mumbles and frantic thoughts, Price had reassured them that it was normal, that you were still alive —all they had to do was wait a few seconds for you to reappear.

Appear you did, a small, ashen head, beak the length of a child’s thumb, small ad brittle, big, rounded eyes blinked at them, narrowed in confusion until you called, a tiny croon from a chick’s throat. You shuffled your way through the mess, featherless wings flapping as you hopped towards Price, who quickly met you half way, picking you up with one nimble swoop.

“Look at you,” Price cooed, pressing his thumb to your forehead, feeling the soft, newly grown feathers that glowed white, “About time you burned, yeah?”

“Fuckin’ hell,” it was the only thing he could answer with when his mind was building up these theories, every little thought in his head went to understand what and how you were made. It was as close as Soap’s Steamin’ bloody Jesus or König’s dumbfounded Was.

“Is that why you told us not to worry, Captain?” Gaz’s ability to think clearly in adrenaline-inducing moments was a blessing, able to restrain his unending thoughts to connect two together and conjure up a sentence - a few words, a mumble or a plea - to understand whatever happened to you. “What happened?”

Price let out a deep rumble, a laugh from his belly, deep and amused, a striking contrast to their worried frowns. He handled you softly, petting and pinching at the young feathers growing on you while he turned you around, showing them how Price held you with such careful ease and soothing smile. Ghost doubted that Price didn’t have any prior experience in caring for you, seeing how loving he was with you —like a lover caring for his sickened, or a dragon guarding his treasure, Ghost wasn’t sure which one was right.

“Hunter’s a phoenix, “ he smiled softly, eyes gleaming with too much glee, a silent laugh at their sudden bewilderment, approaching you slowly to admire you themselves. “They burst to flames every three years or so, the last one was around five years ago- long overdue for a reset.”

Soap and Horangi were the first to attempt to touch you, the excited dog and the curious feline, tentatively poking at you with a finger until you pecked it, annoyed by their incessant jabbing. You let out a shrill cry from your throat, small and hilariously fierce for something so small and fragile. You crawled to the ends of Price’s fingers, wings flapping to urge them to pick you up instead of pointing a finger and cooing at you as if you were an exotic animal. You somewhat were —exotic, that is.

“A wee thang, aye, Cap?” Soap awed, cradling you in his palms, you weighted so little, as light as a feather on Gaz’s wing.

“Ugly as a rat too,” Horangi snickered, making light of the situation that had made their hearts stop.

You screeched, shaking your head wildly at him, his shoulders bobbing while you showed how offended you felt by acting out, an angry, little chick putting on a show of aggression and courage. His dark thoughts receded, Ghost’s fears and demons falling back into the depths of his mind when his eyes met your beady ones, round and doe-eyed, your age shining through the innocence of a newly-hatched. It made him wonder how you’d look once your feathers grew out, would you be as majestic as the stories portrayed phoenix did, with your great wings and great strength, feathers bathed in the sun’s warm embrace and tipped with the power of undying flames of power. Phoenixes were seen as symbols of immortality, resurrection —of life and death. Untouchable by death and favoured by life, you would live in a cycle of ashes and flames, embers cracking until it softened to flickers, a soft, gentle flame ready to yield to nature.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @ki-cant-spel @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @mul-pi @danielle143

[hypertechnica]

i’m going to make fiddauthor art with fidds wearing his wedding ring and you are NOT going to like it

big obligatory banner that says “cheating is bad don’t do it i just like stories with relationship drama”

closeted, internally homophobic gay men who are married with kids has to be the trope i’m weakest to. no person involved is escaping the despair brought on by a relationship built on a well intentioned, desperate lie, born out of a desire to be normal and good

he WANTED to love her so fucking badly. he felt no ill will towards her and he loves their son more than words can say. he thought the attraction, the way she felt about him, would come with time. it didn’t. he doesn’t want to hurt her yet was doomed to from the start, and he’s truly, truly sorry. this does not absolve him of anything whatsoever and she has the full right to never want to speak with him again. he lied! he pretended to feel the same when he never once felt anything but platonic affection! he’s been in love with someone else this whole fucking time! and their kid… he’s caught in the middle of it all, too young to understand why his father would hurt his family like this.

and then he disappears and never comes back. imagine you’re 5 and your dad goes to the middle of the woods with his buddy for science shit, all of the sudden your parents are yelling on the phone and signing papers, and then he goes MIA. for years.

imagine your husbands “buddy” was the one he was thinking of all this time, not you, never you. and the first chance he gets to run away from you, he takes, and you should have been suspicious by the rushed frenzy of it all, the phone calls getting shorter and shorter until it fizzles to nothing. he forgot to get you a christmas gift. he hand-made him two. there has to be something wrong with you, it has to be your fault. you wish you married the man he becomes when he’s in his presence.

he folded when you started questioning him directly - he’d been to neurotic to ever be a good liar. you thought he was the one. he thought you were nice.

by the time the divorce is finalized he’s different in a wrong way. confused, angry, forgetful, insane - if the giant homicidal robot pterodactyl you’ve been harassed by is any indication. (he’s had a bad habit of building homicidal robots when he’s mad since they met -engineer things- but it was never directed at her - thankfully it never actually does anything) he’s clearly abusing drugs - you’d feel bad if he hadn’t abandoned you with the burden of explaining why your son can’t see his father anymore.

it’s a rotten bit of your soul, but time heals you. you move on and no longer think of him. trust in your career. find a man who truly loves you with no motives attached. raise your kid to be a good man. and in a fashion not unlike shakespearean dramatic irony, this makes him move to gravity falls to find and take care of his father. you couldn’t care less what hee doing now, but damn it, it’s his father, what is the kid supposed to do? but its futile- he appears to have no remorse, hell, no memory of the incident in the first place. (this isn’t his fault but how are they supposed to know that?) so he grows bitter and cold just like his mother used to be.

imagine that.

all over a mans inability to do anything but live in denial. to force himself to live in a box and pine like a dying man over the right one at the wrong time, destined to crash and burn. to take denial to a new level- a cult, brain damaging radiation, a total ego death - just to take the edge off. take off that damn wedding ring

[miniwheat77]

Alibi. (141 x Reader HC’s.)

You guys see those edits floating around tik tok with that Alibi song? (you know what I’m talking about.) so here’s a fic inspired by it. !nsfw, violence, mental health issues, death, blood, mentions of suicide, NO MINORS!

Can you remember when the last time was you felt safe in the dark?

All of the ways reader is valuable to 141, more than just as a soldier.

When I’m out of breath, she’s my vitals.

His heart is thudding in his chest. He can’t seem to calm down. Blood rushes from the knife wound in his side and he’s stressed. He knows he shouldn't have taken it out. He knew better and still did it. He doesn't know what he was thinking. He’s taking deep breaths, trying to calm down. He’s alone, his radio is broken and he can’t call for help. He can’t walk because he can’t stop his racing heart.

Just when he thinks he’s going to die alone, you come running. “I got you.” You breathe. Skidding to a stop, lowering yourself onto your knees in front of him. He’s sitting up against a building. You shove his shirt up, grasping his hand and forcing him to hold it over his wound. “Look at me, you’re bleeding too much because you’re too stressed.” You cup his face, forcing him to look at you. “You’re gonna be alright Gaz, look at me. Breathe with me okay?” You take in a deep breath, your imitation tactics will work on him. He stares back.

He takes in a deep breath, the feeling of your hands on him. Knowing that if he dies right now, he won’t die alone. It already calms him.

After a few deep breaths, he’s calming down. His heart has settled a bit more in his chest. You move his hand, seeing that he’s still bleeding but not nearly as bad. “Keep breathing like that Gaz, I’m gonna patch you up the best I can.” He nods his head, keeping the steady intake of oxygen. Medivac was on their way.

You look up at him. Smiling. "It's not happening today. Not like this." He laughs. Wincing slightly. "How are y-you always there ah?" He laughs. You look at him confused. "Anytime anyone is hurt you always know and you always come running." He laughs.

"I just do. You're my brothers. I'll always come running. I got you.” You breathe. “Keep breathing for me. Medivac is coming. I’ll be by your side no matter what alright?”

When I need to rev, she’s my ride or die.

Your teeth are gritted as you watch the scene unfold in front of you. The new recruit doesn't know you're there and she's been a total bitch to him since she started, but would only do it when no one else was around. When he brought it up, she called him a liar. She didn't know you were here and neither did he. "You know you're the weakest link of this entire task force? I mean really? I don't even know why they keep you around." She snorts. You let her dig her own grave but you can see him and he's fuming. Getting more and more angry as she keeps going. You're worried he might actually explode. You need the perfect moment to show yourself.

"You know I could say you hit me and they would kick you off of this base so fast because no one would believe you."

That was your last straw. You start walking into the room, your footsteps can be heard. The moment she sees you, she's got that same look on her face. The crocodile tears start. "Y/N thank god. He was just threatening me." She cries. Making her way toward you. "Is that true?" You look at him. He says nothing. Expecting you to take her side. You've always been ride or die for everyone and he doesn't know what so suddenly changed when she came around. He is clearly pissed.

"Look. Maybe we can talk this out. In private. Let's go outside and talk." You mumble. He rolls his eyes but knows he has no choice. The both of them follow you outside and the moment the door is closed, you grasp her shoulder and spin her around. Before she has time to react you’re punching her in the gut as hard as you can. His eyes widen. "Jesus!" He mumbles. You clamp a hand over her mouth before she can yell out. Backing her into the wall. "Not a word or I'll put a bullet in your fucking head and than there will only be one side to this story." You growl. He's standing off to the side. Surprised at how quickly this had escalated. "Everyone on this task force. Even him. They are my brothers and if you fuck with them, you fuck with me." You have her pinned. Right in the blind spot where cameras don't see it, which now he realizes was your plan all along.

You take another swing at her, busting her nose. Blood rushes from it. "Go to your room and clean up and if you say a fucking word I'll have your head. Understand?" You seethe. She nods her head.

She rushes away from you.

"You knew?" He asks. You snort. "Of course I knew Johnny." You laugh. Shaking the pain from your fist. "I always know."

"Thank god." He sighs. "Not just my word against hers anymore." He sighs. "Nah, we'll talk to Price and get her out of here. Let's go get a drink, calm you down." You rest your hand on his lower back, seeing the weight has clearly been lifted off his shoulders.

When I’m out of faith, she’s my idol.

It's times like this he wishes he hadn't taken on the responsibility of being a Captain in the military. He has to be someone these people look up to. But he doesn't feel worthy. He feels like he means nothing, sometimes he feels he leads them in the wrong directions. Sometimes going as far as getting them injured or killed. He doesn't know how to combat these feelings.

Some days he wants to give up. Wants to call it quits and leave this all behind. But he knows he has people relying on him. Even if he thinks they'd be better off without him. He sighs. Taking a drink of the flask he had in his hand. He's got the gun in his waistband. He shouldn't be having these thoughts. For some reason, his mind keeps travelling to you. Your smiling face despite being in the worst situations known to man. How you always seem to be so happy and keeping a good attitude. He wishes he could be that positive all of the time. He wishes he could be like you in a lot of ways but doesn't understand it.

He hears footsteps and quickly tries to hide the flask until he sees it's Gaz. "Garrick." He nods. "Cap. Something going on?"

"Ah. Same old. Wish I could change things I can't." He snorts. "Feel you there. Y/N asked if I could come find you, says she needs to ask you something." He nods his head. He wonders what you could possibly want this late. He stands up. "That girl. Swear. No matter what she's always so happy." He laughs. "Yeah you got me. I don't know how she does it all of the time." Captain Price laughs. "Wish I could be like her in a lot of ways."

"That's funny. She says the same things about you." He laughs. "Really?" He asks. He nods. "Yeah. When you're not around she tells stories. Talks about how you're basically her hero. Tells everyone all kinds of cool stuff you've done. Swears up and down that you're the best superior she's ever worked for in the military. Says she doesn't know what she'd do if something happened to you." Captain Price laughs. Shocked at hearing that you've said such kind things about him. "Such a sweet girl." He shakes his head. "Thanks Gaz. I'll see you tomorrow morning." He nods. He's going to go find you.

Right after he returns this gun to his nightstand.

I just killed a man, she’s my alibi.

Ghost sits in his house. His hands shake violently. He fucked up. He fucked up bad this time. He doesn't know how he'll talk his way out of this one. The man had gotten slick with him at the bar after what he’d done. He shouldn't have went in the first place. He should've stayed home. He doesn't know who to call, but you're the closest person to him. He's got no other choice.

You come running at the tone in his voice. He's clearly scared about something. When you arrive, you walk right into his house. "Simon?" You ask. He looks up. "What's going on?" He asks.

You had an idea of what it was. You'd seen the news this morning.

"A man was found dead in the back alley of a bar this morning, footage showed a man wearing a skull mask."

"I.. I don't know what got into me. He..." he trails off. "He corned this girl back there and I didn't know what to do. I just hit him. I couldn't stop."

You press your hand to your lips. Silencing him. "Listen to me-" A knock at the door is what startles you. "Go answer it and don't say a word about where you were until I'm down there okay?" You force him to look at you. You grasp the mask on his face and pull it off of him. He nods. Listening. He makes his way to the front door.

You look around the room, you know what you're looking for. You look across his boots and other shoes that he might've been wearing but they're all clean. Everything is all clean until you spot the gloves in his bathroom. You quickly shove them in your pockets and make your way to him. He's let the officer in. "I really was just wondering where you were last night?" He's got a little note pad in his hand and a pencil in the other. "Is something wrong?" You ask. Stepping into the room. "Oh uh.. just routine questions. Nothing serious ma'am." He smiles. "Oh.. we just got back from a black ops mission a few hours ago, did something happen?" You ask. "Uh.. well we're just investigating a death at a bar last night. Folks say they saw a man wearing a skull mask and we heard from around that you sometimes wear them." He looks at Ghost.

"Oh.. uh. I usually only wear those when I'm on missions to hide my identity. Don't want people knowing who I am and retaliating against my family." Simon explains. The officer explains. "Do you guys have a superior I can follow this up with? Just to double check?" He asks. You nod your head. "Yeah of course. I have his phone number right here." You nod. Drawing your phone out of your pocket. You relay the number and Ghost only hopes Captain Price will cover for the both of you. "You mind if I take a peek around?" He asks. "No. Course not." You answer, seeing the fear rise in Simon's eyes.

The officer disappears for a few minutes before coming back. "It doesn't look like I'll have to follow up after all. Someone made report that he had attacked a female and the person acted in defense for her. However we would like them to come forward anyways. So if you happen to hear about any of this, please give me a call." He passes a card to you and you take it. "Thanks officer." You smile. When he leaves, you lock the door behind him. Tugging the gloves out of your pocket. How fast you had acted.

How fast you were willing to cover for a murderer? What other lengths would you go to. To defend the task force?

"You owe me, Riley."

[webslingingslasher]

i wanna bite peter. no. i NEED to bite Peter.

his skin looks so yummy i crave it😁😁

it's been a long three days and you've missed your frat boy past the point of insanity.

mentally, you were scratching your arms and had a twitchy eye. physically, you were power walking to frat row. the second, and you mean the second, peter texted you and told you he was back from his weekend trip, you dropped everything to see him.

he wasn't even done unpacking when he heard your soft stomps up the stairs, he knows it's you just by the sound. peter had missed you more than he would admit, he couldn't wait to give you a bruising kiss to prove it.

'petey!' it's loud and he doesn't care one bit. his girls in front of him.

'trouble!' opening his arms wide, he's ready for the hug of his lifetime. you're nearly bouncing over to him before pulling his arm down. peter's eyebrows furrow, he thinks you're going for an awkward wrap around, until you tug his shirt sleeve up and sink your teeth into the meat of his bicep.

'ah! you vermin, get away!' he's doing the world's weakest job at pulling away, you smile into his skin before shaking your head like a dog with a bone.

peter had expected you to jump on him and kiss over his face. you had done nothing but tell him how much you missed him and his 'strong arms' and the second you can be in them again, you treat him like a chew toy.

you missed his arms alright, missed eating them, that is.

'hey, c'mon, i missed you too! i want a hug and a kiss, then you can nibble as much as you want.'

you dot kisses over the skin you had under your teeth, 'i missed you so much.' peter's whiny this time, 'then give me a hug!' he wants his arms around you so bad.

you wrap your arms around him and tuck your head under his chin, you can tell how much he really missed you when he fully relaxes into your hold.

'slept like shit without you.' kisses on your forehead has you happily sigh into his chest. 'liar, you hate sharing a bed with me. you always threaten to kick me out.'

peter didn't realize how much he missed you waking him up in the middle of the night for some bogus reason. it made him feel loved, it didn't matter what time it was, you wanted him to be the first person you told anything to, even if it was just a weird dream.

he won't admit that though, instead he says, 'you're right, it was nice not being woken up to cold feet and philosophical questions.'

'knew it,' that means you know he missed you more than he'd ever tell you. 'can i please have a kiss now?' if you'd ever say no to that question, especially when he asks it as soft and hesitant as he just did.

but that doesn't mean you can't give him shit, you let out a pretend groan, 'fine, i guess so.' revealing your face, you blink at the overhead light in his room.

instead of grabbing you passionately, he cups your cheeks and smushes your lips together in a pout. peter takes his time looking you over, he's silent and it makes you feel shy.

While you look down for a second, peter whispers out to you.

'my baby.'

his lips are on yours, a sense of home and peace envelops you. clenching at the waist of his shirt, you lean up to fully melt into him. peter's thinking the same way, wrapping an arm around your lower back to pull you flush into him.

peter pulls away for just a second before he's back on you, placing three quick pecks before breaking out in a smile.

'i have no fucking idea how i'm going to survive the summer,' you bite down on your lip, summer is months away, he's not able to imagine a future without you and it makes you ultra giddy.

'easy, i come stay with you for a few weeks. i think may and i would get along.' you expected him to roll his eyes, instead he nods his head. 'i think she'd love that, she's always hinting she needs another woman around her.'

you kiss your teeth at him, 'three days without me and you're planning the future. i love to see it.'

'it made me realize how much i like having you around me, even if you're biting me.'

you gasp, eyes widening at the forgotten idea. 'oo, thanks, petey!' you swing your head to clamp your teeth into his arm, a hiss follows.

'you're a fucking rat and so uninvited from my aunt's house!' 

[lunaoyabun]

ཐི❤︎ཋྀ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭'𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬...

tags: angst, fluff, depression, mentioned self-harm, mentioned suicide, movie spoiler, gojo x y/n in a relationship

If there is one thing Satoru Gojo is good at, it's pretending. Every day, he pretends there's nothing to worry about. That there's hope. Even though he had to kill his best friend with his own hands. Even though the entire world of sorcerers had burdened his shoulders with him being the chosen one. The strongest. Of course he is. He has to be... at least for you. Seeing you depressed is his one and only weakness.

If those rosie cheeks of yours are covered in tears, your body shivering and rocking itself back and forth to comfort the pain, that your heart and mind let's you feel, it hurts him. The only thing that could ever break him would be losing you. If he could never see this beautiful smile of yours again. Never feel your warm embrace again, every time you hug each other or when you sleep at night, all cuddled up. Never smell this sweet scent of your vanilla shampoo again or listen to the sound of your giggles when he tickles you without showing mercy.

If you would stop breathing, his world would collapse within seconds, and you know that. You know exactly how devastated he would feel without you by his side. And it kills you inside. Every little part of you that desperately wants to disappear, to escape this never-ending pain of yours, knows deep inside that you could never end yourself.

Because if you would do so, you would not just take one life. You would break the so-called strongest and turn him into the weakest in a glimpse of a moment. This fear is the only thing that keeps you alive. Without Satoru Gojo, a blade in your hands would not only cut skin, it would cut the last chance of a deep down inside broken man of ever feeling the true meaning of love for once. That's why love seems to be the most twisted curse of them all. Doesn't it?

"Good morning, my pretty little angel. Did u sleep well?" the white-haired giant asked while holding you close in the shared bed of yours. His big arms slung tightly around your weak body while his nose's buried in your hair, taking in your vanilla scent.

It breaks your heart to keep lying to him about your depression, but you don't want to be a burden, so you just smile and nod.

"Liar" he whispered, well aware that you had one of your nightmares again. He saw your body shifting around heavily moments before you woke up and watched you fight your inner demons until you woke up. He even held you, so you don't hurt yourself or him in your sleep.

"I wish you could see yourself through my eyes for once. Maybe one day you will understand how precious you are to me, y/n" he whispered and kissed your forehead before he laid his chin on the crown of your head and sighed, letting you know that he had a hunch of what's going on.

"And when the day comes that you understand, maybe you don't need me anymore to remind you that there's so much to live for."

And those words where all you needed, to remind you, that if you would ever end yourself, you could never see him again, and he wouldn't just lose you; you would lose him too.

Tears ran down your face when you finally decided to share your inner world with him and stop lying to him. Even though you felt naked and vulnerable now, it was the right decision. Because from this very moment, you became each other's diary, and Satoru opened up to you without playing the strongest anymore. Your depression started to heal, and his weakness became his strength...

© LunaOyabun 2024

[irisintheafterglow]

Until You Come Back Home (gojo x you)

summary: you call his name enough times that he does, indeed, come back home.

wc: 1.76k

cw/tags: angst/comfort, happy ending !!!, lovesick reader and lovesick satoru, mentions of suguru and riko so anime spoilers, pet names (sweetheart, angel, babe)

note: RAHHHH HERE IT IS HE'S BACK last part of "I Don't Wanna Live Forever" !!! this is my coping mechanism before, during, and after shibuya cuz i plan ahead, yk? anyways hope you like it :D

likes, reblogs, and feedback is always appreciated !

It’s quiet in your room, too unsettling for it to be considered peaceful. You toss around in your covers and count sheep until you’re well past 200 to no avail. It just felt like something was missing and you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was. The room felt humongous and claustrophobic at the same time, too hot to wear blankets but too cold to have your skin exposed. Every single one of your senses was irritated to its limit and you settled for taking a walk to get water. However, you’re surprised to find that you’re not the only one feeling restless. 

“Satoru?” 

You see him tilt his head to look at you in the darkness of the teachers’ common area. His legs are crossed over each other and he rests his chin in the heel of his hand. Rubbing his eyes with the sleeve of his half-unzipped jacket, he gives you a tired smile as you sit on the coffee table in front of him. The bags under his eyes are deep enough to bury a treasure chest. You don’t ask if he wants to talk, instead reaching out to take his hand and running your thumb over his knuckles. It’s just something friends do, you reason. No feelings involved with this kind of physical touch, right? After a moment, he shrugs a lean shoulder with a ragged breath, once-vibrant eyes now dulled. 

“Bad dream woke me up. Thought it’d be better to have a change of scenery.” His voice has none of its melodic lilt that you’d grown to love since you both were students, and it makes your face fall. You had very limited knowledge of his nightmares, but to find him staring off into space at the earliest hours of the morning was especially concerning. It was frightening, sometimes, to be Satoru’s closest remaining friend. Witnessing the strongest sorcerer at his weakest was a frequent occurrence for you, however much he tried to appear unbreakable to the rest of society. It was even more frightening to walk this line with him between friends and lovers, to gamble your feelings on a human with the powers of a god. “Do you remember Riko?” 

“Of course I do. As vividly as I remember him, too.” You don’t speak the name of his best friend turned murderer, for your sake and for Satoru’s. It was a stab to the heart you weren’t ready for. “The dream was about them?”

“Mhmm. Just reliving it all again.”

“You’re sort of doing that now, sitting here like a guard at his post.” 

“That’s the point, babe.”

“The point is hurting you, Satoru.” His hair seems almost iridescent in the moonlight when he shakes his head. 

“What are you doing awake, anyway? Missed me so much you couldn’t sleep?” He was baiting you to change the subject and, to your dismay, you bite. 

“Bold of you to assume I miss you at all,” you state flatly, dropping his hand dramatically. He exhales a quiet laugh, leaning his head on his hand to stare at you with those stupidly pretty blue eyes. 

“Liar. You’re the first one I see after every mission, even when I’m not looking for you.” Your mouth quirks at his slip. 

“You search for me after missions?” It makes your heart a little lighter to see some of the twinkle come back into his eyes when he smiles softly. “You’re lying now. Look at your smirk,” you say, flicking his knee lightly. It’s purposeful, you think, when you feel the fabric of his sweatpants brush your hand. He never turned on Infinity if it was you. 

“Believe whatever you want to believe; but, fact is, we’re really good at running into each other.” He leans back in the armchair, raising both hands in surrender. He sighs, looking out at the moonlit courtyard below. “Even right now.” The corner of his mouth quirks teasingly and his eyes flick back to you. “Guess you always know when to find me when I need you, huh?” What is usually a heated face and a rapid heartbeat is replaced by a comforting warmth enveloping your entire body as you nod in agreement. Your mouth opens into a large yawn and you’re reminded how early it is. “I'm fine. Go back to sleep.”

“No.”

“Why won’t you listen to me?”

“Would you listen if I told you to go back to sleep?” He frowns, staring out the window again in reluctance. Before you speak again, he gives the tiniest shake of his head, imperceptible if you weren’t already staring at him. I can’t. He’s scared to fall asleep again, you figure, like when Megumi was younger and would crawl into your bed in the middle of the night. You huff, running your tongue over your top lip thoughtfully before plopping onto the couch perpendicular to his armchair. He glances at you, puzzled, and you settle into the cushions determinedly. “If you’re anxious of what can happen while you’re asleep, I’ll keep watch and wake you if something happens.” His face contorts to protest but you’re quick to cut him off. “Please, rest. I’ll be right here if you need anything.” 

You don’t really remember much after that. In the morning, you find yourself in Satoru’s bed with his arms curled around you. His face is buried in your shoulder, the blankets are twisted around your legs and his, and you have to blow a few white hairs from your face, but it doesn’t matter. It’s peaceful, and he’s asleep with his forehead against your neck. When you absentmindedly run your fingers through his hair and rub his back with the other hand, he sighs and melts more into your body. It’s a position you became much more familiar with when you officially started dating. It was natural to hold him, to wait for him, to love him. Sometimes, when he returned from a mission and you were already asleep, your body would move on its own to embrace him as he slipped into the sheets. Over time, his name fell from your lips as easily as breathing. 

You would whisper it sleepily, in a hazy trance between sleeping and waking. “Hi, gorgeous,” he replies against your temple, pressing feather-light kisses to your skin. “Miss me?” 

You called it over and over, slightly out of breath after you sprint from one end of the school to the other, Shoko texting you that he was returning after a months-long mission. “You don’t know how much I’ve missed you,” he murmurs in your ear, picking you up and spinning you around like a romcom movie. 

You’ve screamed it, occasionally, on the days when being in love with a fallen god became too much to bear and he told you to leave, if you couldn’t stand him that much. The romcom side of your relationship certainly appeared during those days, as it seemed to rain the hardest when he was standing outside your door and begging you to come back to his room. It wasn’t perfect, being with Satoru, but neither was he. That alone kept you coming back and calling his name like a mantra.

It’s the only thing you’re able to say when you see him for the first time since his unsealing.

You see him with Yuuji and Yuta in the courtyard, the same courtyard he looked at all those nights ago. Your breath catches in your throat when you finally register the afternoon sun glinting off of his hair. Though your brain was firing off a million signals in a span of seconds, it feels physically impossible to form words, to breathe, to run. Your body and mind push against each other for control, one completely frozen while the other is running so many trains of thought they’re all crashing disastrously. You swallow and take a few cautious steps down the stairs. His head snaps in your direction. 

“Satoru?”

Before you can blink, he’s in front of you, alive and breathing despite the newly healed scars. You cup his face in your hands ever so gently, as if he’d shatter if you weren’t careful. The warm feeling of his skin beneath the pads of your fingers told you that he was real, that he was here. He’s there to catch you when your legs give out and you sink to the ground with him, inhaling him for the first time in weeks that felt like centuries. His arms were just as strong as you willed yourself to remember and just as firm as if you were the one who came back from a lethal assignment. 

“My angel,” he murmurs into your skin. Devotion drips from his words like honey. “How did you know where to find me?” You choke out a half-laugh, half-cry and smile against his chest, more at ease than you’ve felt in your entire life. 

“We’re just really good at running into each other.” He laughs, genuinely laughs and it feels like a thirty pound weight is instantly lifted from your shoulders. 

“We are, aren’t we?”

“Can we have that rager wedding now?” You were beaming at him, basking in his light and slowly tracing your fingers over his scars. It was just another part of him for you to memorize. 

“I thought you denied me my rager wedding.” His accusation is whispered right into your ear and the hair on the back of your neck stands up from the close proximity. “I was heartbroken, truly.”

“If it means keeping you forever, I’ll have a hundred rager weddings,” you promise. In true Satoru fashion, however, he still likes to push your buttons whenever he has a chance. 

“What if it’s two hundred?” He smirks and you roll your eyes, unable to stop smiling nonetheless. 

“That’s pushing it.”

“Fine,” he concedes, pressing one more kiss to your cheek. “One will do. We don’t even have to buy a house.”

“Why not?”

“Because wherever I’m with you, I’m–” 

“Already home. I get it.” He draws his mouth into a frustrated grimace. 

“You didn’t let me finish my sappy line.”

“You’ll have to come up with better than that if you want to truly have that rager wedding.”

“It’s good that I like a challenge, then,” he states before picking you up clear off the ground, one arm slung under your legs and the other supporting your back. He calls out something to his students behind you that you can’t hear, escorting you back to his bed and resting, truly resting, for the first time in ages. 

[terrence-silver]

Imagining high school sweetheart!beloved and Terry getting married before he gets shipped off to war and Beloved always sending letters to Terry while he’s away

Bonus: Terry comes back home after the war and finds Beloved’s unsent letters to him that were written when he was M.I.A. and sees how worried she was about him

---

I feel nobody would believe Twig is married because he's, well...Twig!

He's so young! So shy! So wide eyed! Scrawny! The idea of Privates infinitely more experienced and worldly than him only just being in the stage of sharing correspondence back home with their respective sweethearts and go-steady girlfriends while this kid here is already legally married is straight out of the Twilight Zone for most of his fellow soldiers who immediately wrote him off as a sore loser, perhaps with the rare exception of John Kreese who stands up for him and defends him when he's teased and called a liar who just about invented a full-blown Missus for himself to seem cool and less of a wimp in the eyes of everyone else, the letters he receives from beloved deemed fabricated one way or another even though they're actually entirely legitimate, the parcels bearing the seal of the military mail, arriving the same as everyone else's packages do.

''Did your momma write those?''

Someone might cruelly jest right before Kreese gives them a look, telling them to step off.

Gets slightly worse during POW captivity. All the members of Twig's platoon are in the same mess but it doesn't prevent in-fighting and the day-to-day cruelty and microaggressions from continuing even inside of a cage when validly, once communications are entirely cut off and they're trapped deep in enemy territory, there is no way for beloved's letters or anyone's as for that matter to come in and circulate, and the soldiers and even Twig's own Commanding Officer Turner never let him forget that like he's somehow to blame (And in their mind's eye, he is. They feel he's got them all captured through his negligence and incompetence. There will be payback for that. If the Vietcong don't do him in, his own will. For all Turner cares, Terry Silver got them here and pray to God, in the following weeks, he'll make this kid's life so difficult in this cage he'll wish the Vietcong ended him day one, bullet to the brain, same as Ponytail and what better way to utilize psychological warfare than to use the boy's own spouse against him the way he later tries with John and Betsy), finding it an apt pastime to pester one of their own even when facing death, torture and execution from the Vietcong that captured them. It's easier in a weird and very sick sense; poking and prodding at the weakest link in the hierarchy of things to better endure the gravity of the situation and just forget for a while.

You do some pretty awful things under duress.

''Guess the love letters stopped now, eh, Twig?'' Turner mocks.

''Momma back home ran out of ink?''

The older man laughs into his own chin as Twig scoots further back against the bamboo bars of their shared jail, missing beloved so badly he can feel the ache of it in his bones, loathing the fact he has no control of anything going on and John Kreese, witnessing the sight and having stood up for his friend countless times vows that one of these days, he's gonna give their Commanding Officer a piece of his mind even if he ends up court martialed for it after they're released seeing as how John can vouch that if the other soldiers are boneheads Captain Turner has enough intel on his own men to know for a fact Twig never lied and that he is in fact married back home. That beloved's real the same way his Betsy is real. Man has no excuse for the hell he's putting Twig through just because he can. John gets his chance to retaliate for the abuse a few weeks later once the Vietcong force them to fight over an open pit of snakes.

As for Twig?

Once they're rescued from the POW camp, he is finally reunited with the stack of letters beloved's been sending him back at base and it's like being reunited with a missing limb. When he gets home, beloved gives him a package of unsent mail just around the time he was captured and gone missing. Everything he's been made fun of entirely real and genuine; not one word of it a lie or made up. Everything right there, in black and white, written down with beloved's own pen. Every bit of concern. Fear. Care. Of course, it only serves to turn him a little more...well...Terry Silver as we know him. No point in being truthful if he won't be believed anyway, even when he is. Might as well fabricated. Might as well manipulate. Everyone who ever laughed at him died. And he's here. He survived. He is loved. He's won. And he'll keep winning and winning.

He hugs the stack of letters and beloved close to his chest with a vice grip.

The first seeds of something very dark have long been sown.

[daes0]

[M] Chapter 12: "Come back to bed."

Rafayel and all the ways he says he l̶̯̞̱̬̘̜̗̏͒̂̐̈͋̍̓ô̶̡͙̤̻̐̓͑̚͝v̴͕͖̙̦̩͚͓̠̌̄͂͒͜ȇ̵̪̆͐̒̈́͠s̶̬̬̼͆͛̚ you.

Pairing: {Rafayel x Reader}

Rating: {Explicit} {Sexual Content}

Word Count: {1.9k words, 20.5k for entire work}

liar liar lover

The world keeps turning. Linkon City is afraid. It's just a gunshot wound.

You're fine. Right?

You just need to keep hunting.

Your time away has given you regrets. Why did you hesitate? What are morals in front of a killer? You're a hunter. Your body is expendable. You just need to keep the people you love safe. That's your purpose. Your only purpose.

Your stepbrother Caleb had told you to be careful, to value yourself over the title of Deepspace Hunter. To get home safe, above all else. You had nodded your head to appease him at the time. You disagree now. You're nothing if you're not a hunter. You're nothing if you don't keep the people you love safe.

Why did you hesitate?

You cannot rest when that incessant thought keeps circling around your head.

You are too kind. The answer is violence. That's what your training was for. To kill without mercy, to attack wanderers and to not think twice. The soulless creatures, lost in bloodthirst, waiting for another human to consume. You'd been taught a lot about them, about their anatomy and where they're weakest, about their behavior and patterns. You were told not to view them as animals, as they are not. They are creatures of cruelty and violence. Their existence begets more violence.

You had seen your comrade fall, but found out after you'd woken up that they'd died from a wound to the neck. He had choked on his own blood and flesh, drowning and gasping. How did you not notice? How did you not hear his cries, see his outstretched hand towards you, feel his desperation?

Delusion. There wasn't much known about this particular evol. It was rare, too rare that it hadn't been studied yet. An illusion type that can completely overwhelm its targets, so long as that target isn't a wanderer. Almost ready-made for a killer.

Killer. That existence begets more violence.

You want to be a killer.

Want.

How pathetic is that, to want?

(Why did you hesitate?)

You want to rid the world of the one that threatens your beloved. If you could face her again, you promised yourself not to hesitate. Given the chance, the opportunity-

You don't want to kill. You want to be a killer. You want to lose control, no hesitation, no humanity. Face the consequences later. 

You shouldn't have been surprised when the hunters disagreed in keeping you on this case.

~

You can't help but pace back and forth across your apartment. You keep finding new ways to be annoyed over this situation, over being put on temporary rest.

"I can't believe Nero snitched on me."

Rafayel's eyes move back and forth, following you. He's sat on the couch, his arms crossed, and he's both concerned and amused. "To be fair, it's probably for the best."

Rafayel was being investigated as an official suspect who might be working with the art killer. It didn't matter that you argued he was likely a future target. Your friendship and romantic feelings for him put you as a risky hunter, and therefore Nero found it necessary to report that you should be taken off the case.

This had happened before your confrontation with the presumed killer, but the fact that she managed to escape while you were there had been the final nail in the coffin. It wasn't your fault, and yet your captains acted like it was.

Your wounds in combination with you admitting that you were friends and lovers with Rafayel ended up with you on rest until further notice.

You had asked if you could come back to the art killer case after, and as much as you hated the answer, you weren't surprised that Captain Jenna had said no.

"I was the main hunter on the case- they can't just remove me over a few bruises."

Still, you can still be mad about it.

Rafayel watches you, waiting for you to calm down. "And a gunshot wound. I understand where you're coming from, but there's definitely a gunshot wound on your shoulder."

You move your arm, and Rafayel tries to stop you in time but you ignore him. Instead, you try to flex your arm in an attempt to show you're fine, but it aggravates the wound and you wince in pain.

"See?" he huffs, both annoyed and concerned.

"Okay, point taken," you say as you hold onto your shoulder, gripping it together. "I might need new bandages." You bite your bottom lip, trying to keep the pounding scream from coming out.

Rafayel gets up and goes and grabs the first aid kit. "I think you might be too close to the case," he says when he comes back.

"Am not," you argue, eyes still closed as you try to hold on for dear life.

He approaches you with fresh bandages. You try to let go of your arm, but it sends a new jolt of red hot pain and it's everything you can do to not scream.

Rafayel huffs again, turns to grab a blanket off the couch and rolls it up. He holds the rolled-up blanket in front of you.

You blink up at him through teary confusion.

"Bite it," he orders. "With all your might. It'll make you feel better while I redo your bandages."

So you do, and you untense your arm as best as you can while Rafayel unties your bloodied bandages and sprays the wound with antibacterial medicine. He re-ties the bandages around your shoulder and bicep.

Meanwhile, you're biting the blanket so hard you might as well be ripping it.

Rafayel leaves for a split second before coming back with painkillers and a bottle of water.

"Here," he says as he takes back the blanket and gives you your saving grace in the form of medication.

You take it without much fuss. "Thank you," you say after a moment.

"It'll take some time to work, especially if you move your arm again like that," he chastises with a pointed glare. "But it'll help."

"I'm just mad," you admit, trying to untense your muscles. "I'm stuck in bed rest when I could be helping. That woman was obviously the art killer, but for some reason she wanted to have a fair fight with me instead of shooting like she did with everyone else. She knows who I am. I can use that against her."

"You're gonna provoke your wound again," Rafayel says as he flicks your forehead.

~

You wake up to an incessant beeping. You immediately stand up by the bed, ready to get everything in order so you're not late for work. Then you remember.

You turn towards your nightstand to see your alarm, beeping against the early morning. You shut the alarm, gripping it in your hand. You want to throw it across the room in your sudden anger, but you manage to put it down instead.

Rafayel calls out to you.

"I fucking hate this," you curse, already pacing again.

"Come back to bed, baby," Rafayel says, rubbing the sleep off his eyes.

You're about to snap at him, to take out all your frustrations out on him, but the moment you turn to look at him, the anger starts to melt away. It's Rafayel. You don't want to hurt Rafayel.

You lay back down, still in a bad mood, and your shoulder hurts but you can't bring yourself to care.

"Did you forget to turn off your alarm?" Rafayel asks beside you.

You glance at him and nod.

Rafayel hugs you, his bare chest against your back, and he presses a kiss to the top of your head. "Hey, it's okay."

You turn around and hug him back. "Do you know what Captain Jenna told me when I kept asking to be put back on the case?" Your voice is muffled against the crook of Rafayel's neck.

"No, what did she say?"

"That I can't be trusted." You bury your face further into his skin, breathing him in. "That if I was willing to hide the fact that I personally knew a suspect, that I couldn't be trusted with this."

Rafayel hums against your hair, whispering to calm you down. "I'm sorry, _____."

"It's not like I pretended that I didn't know you," you continue. "Nero and Tara have known for a long time. You came into my work that one time, for fucks sake. Why are they blaming me?"

"I'm sorry," he mumbles again.

"It's not you," you say after a moment. "It's them. The captains refuse to see it from my perspective. I'm their best bet for the art killer. I mean, fuck, she hesitated, Rafayel. The killer hesitated. She knows who I was. I don't know why, but she knows. I don't have a single memory of this person and yet she knew me. That can be used against her. And I could predict her delusions! Still, I guess they think that I know her too. That I might work with her instead of against her."

"You're going to agitate your wound again," Rafayel says, looking over to your shoulder.

You sigh. "I need a distraction."

"Do you want to watch something?"

"No," you say, biting your lip. "Can you go down on me?"

"To distract you?" he asks to confirm, a smile in his words.

You lean in and kiss him, rough and needy.

You pull back, satisfied. "Put that pretty mouth to work."

Rafayel's smile widens, and then he's lowering himself on you, pressing kisses against your skin, lower and lower. His kisses skip over where you need him, and he opens up your legs and slots himself in between them.

He trails soft kisses on the inside of your thighs, savoring your little whines as you beg him to go further, until finally he stops.

"You're so beautiful," he says against your thigh, his breath chaste against the space in between. "So, so beautiful."

You put a hand over his head, playing with his hair for a moment before pushing him down. "Eat me," you almost beg.

"With pleasure," he smiles before delving deeper.

His tongue traces your pussy, licking stripes between the middle up to your clit. You shudder at the feeling, and he licks again, this time harder, smashing his tongue against your bundle of nerves.

You can't help the moan that escapes your lips.

Rafayel smiles against you, his tongue swiping up and down your clit. He presses his mouth against it and sucks in, your pearl delicate against his lips. You feel a quick surge of pleasure, and you can hear yourself asking for more.

He flattens his tongue against you, lowering his tongue to your hole and tasting your juices before bringing it back up. The wet feeling pressed against you, tender and gentle, isn't enough.

You press your hand against his head, your nails lightly scratching as you push him down. You lift your hips up, desperate and needy.

Rafayel does more in turn, pressing his tongue against you in a quick flicking motion. He switches to smooth circles that trace over your clit, and you squirm underneath him.

You feel that sweet sense of pleasure get closer. "Rafayel, I'm close-"

He redoubles his efforts, making it so that anything that comes out of your mouth is an incoherent set of words.

It's almost too much now, overwhelming, before your vision turns white. You come, clenching against the air, quivering.

Rafayel slows down, his tongue a gentler lover now as he rides you out through your orgasm.

Finally, you pull him up and Rafayel detaches from you.

"You're amazing," you can't help but say as you pant, your breath heavy.

He smiles sheepishly, pressing a kiss against your collarbone before laying back down.

Sleep finds you quickly after that. In his arms, you feel all your worries vanish. You feel safe.

(You won't hesitate.)

END OF CHAPTER 12

[illarian-rambling]

Thanks for the tag @mysticstarlightduck!

Character Profile Tag

Rules: Answer the questions for one of your characters

I feel like giving Djek some love <3

Full name: Djek Serun Kagura

Age: 19 in book 1, 23 in books 2 and 3

Gender: Cis man

Type of Being: Human, specifically of Amaranthi lineage

Appearance: Djek is a scrappy man standing at about 5'5". He has light brown skin, deep-set red eyes, and a black buzzcut about two weeks overgrown. He constantly squints because he needs glasses, lending to his shifty appearance, and he's missing a few teeth from a long ago brawl. In later books, his hands are covered in rippling black tattoos. He usually dresses in the fantasy version of laid-back chicano style, and can often be seen with lots of jewelry that may or may not belong to him and messy eyeliner.

Way of speaking: He grew up on the streets of a big city, and you can tell. There isn't a formal bone in his body. In my mind, he has a Chicago accent.

Physical characteristics: Elaborating on what I said in appearance, Djek’s most noticeable trait is his bright red eyes. This is the telling feature of the Amaranthi people, and his eyes are very vibrant even by that standard. Too bad they hardly work.

Occupation: Part-time thief, part-time locksmith. If he can break it, he can make it.

Family: Djek is estranged from his family, as his parents abandoned him to cut down on mouths to feed during a famine. His parents' names are Kali and Jedul. His older sisters are Kiva, Kana, and Avra. His older brother is Shon, and his younger brother is Vanik. He hasn't seen any of them since he was seven, though, so he's not sure which of them survived.

Best friend: His best friends and found family are Izjik Meautammera, Sepo Kaiacynthus, and Twenari Devaris. He considers them to be like sisters and brothers more so than any of his blood siblings.

Pets: Lord knows he's not responsible enough for that

Relationships: He tries, but he can never get past the talking stage, rip

Describe their room: For a large part of the story, he shares a room with Sepo. Djek’s side of the room is perpetually messy. Dirty clothes cover the floor, and the remnants of a half-dozen card castles litter every flat surface. His bed has approximately nine blankets and no fitted sheet or pillow. He likes to tinker on locks before bed, so there's a few screws floating around in there.

Items in their bag/purse: Lockpicks, snacks, spare change, a wallet that might belong to him, and ibuprofen

Hobbies: Playing (cheating at) cards, dancing, tinkering with locks, yapping

Favorite sport: He, like the rest of the quartet, loves to swim

Abilities/talents/powers: Djek is a sorcerer, albeit not a very powerful one. His best spell is his shadow summoning.

Fears: Abandonment is the big one. Djek has bounced from group to group all his life, always the weakest link. He does his best to make people laugh and always go along with what people say, as he believes any group will leave him to die if he's not useful or amusing enough.

Faults: Chronic people pleaser, consummate liar, terrible self esteem, always trying to be funny at bad times. He doesn't trust himself and thinks he's weak, so he usually just does what the strongest person in the room tells him to.

Good points: Unbreakably loyal, legitimately funny when he gets his timing right, has a heart of gold underneath his rough exterior, incredibly resourceful and creative. Despite how easily peer pressured he is, at a certain point, there are some things Djek refuses to budge on, like killing.

What they want more than anything else: To finally find a place where he belongs.

I'll tag @thecomfywriter @chaotictravelerrants @pluttskutt @tragedycoded @melpomene-grey and anyone else who wants to play :)

Full name: Age: Gender: Type of Being: Appearance: Way of speaking: Physical characteristics: Occupation: Family: Best friend: Pets: Relationships: Describe their room: Items in their bag/purse: Hobbies: Favourite sport: Abilities/talents/powers: Fears: Faults: Good points: What they want more than anything else:

[raspberriesandadventures]

Asleep Beside Them - La Squadra Headcanons

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Sharing a Bed with Them

Risotto:

Risotto sleeps lightly. It’s an unfortunate side-effect of his job. The slightest bumps in the night will wake him up so he’s going to ask you to move as little as possible.

He’d prefer you on his chest, your comforting weight allowing him to make sure you’re safe and tide over some of his nightly paranoia.

He doesn’t shift at all and makes even less sound. If you ever wake up in the middle of the night, you’ll be tempted to check and make sure he’s still breathing.

Getting him to come to bed with you will always be a bit of a fight because he’s constantly overworked. You can normally tempt him by falling asleep on his shoulder.

His dreams are often surreal, featuring beautiful colours and morphing shapes he doesn’t understand but sometimes you’re there and he always wakes up happy then.

Formaggio:

Formaggio sleeps like a log but he never sleeps deeply enough for nothing to wake him – sounds or unusual movements from you will draw him into alertness.

He likes to have you wrapped in his arms at all times and he insists on being the big spoon as long as you’re happy with that. Good luck leaving this spot.

He doesn’t move very much but he does speak in his sleep, often senseless mumbling, but rarely he’ll confess to eating your snacks.

You will have no problems getting Formaggio into bed. He’ll gladly curl up with you even if he’s meant to be working (although obviously not on the job).

He has mostly fun dreams, intermitted with brief and startling nightmares. He’ll always be grateful if you wake him up from either, you’re much better than a dream.

Illuso:

Illuso only ever sleeps in the mirror realm where he knows he’s safe and, when here, there is no force on heaven or earth that can wake him up.

He’s not particularly affectionate when he sleeps and prefers to be only loosely in contact with you. Knowing you’re in the same bed is enough of a contact.

He’s a very deep sleeper but he moves a surprising amount, tossing and turning and often stealing the blanket from you. He will call you a liar every time you tell him this.

Sometimes it’s difficult to get Illuso to come and sleep but often, it’s almost shockingly easy to convince him to disappear into the mirror realm.

Illuso doesn’t remember his dreams very often but he always knows when they involved you because those days, he’ll wake up blissful and content.

Prosciutto:

Prosciutto takes some time to fall asleep but, when he does, he looks gentler than you could imagine. It’s sweet and also why he never sleeps near the others.

He appreciates sleeping back-to-back, knowing that he’s watching your weakest point and that you have his. Even if you wouldn’t be the best defense, he trusts you.

He infrequently shuffles around and almost never speaks unless you make sounds in which he will tell you to be quiet though he never remembers saying this.

It’s painful to try and convince Prosciutto to come and rest. He has a list of requirements before he sleeps and will not lighten up on any of them.

Though he wouldn’t say it, his dreams are very romantic and often feature you, wrapped in a golden haze and nothing less than happy.

Pesci:

Pesci is a fairly light sleeper and he wakes up rather like a zombie, scaring you the first few times he sits up out of nowhere and begins moving.

He likes having you wrapped in his arms with your head tucked close to his chest because he truly feels as though you trust him to look after you.

He speaks all the time in his sleep and it’s frequently very clear with anything ranging from declarations of love to strangely detailed job plans being explained to you.

Some nights he’ll come to bed with you easily but he’ll frequently find himself wrapped up and need to be offered cuddles. Sometimes he holds out on you for this.

Pesci’s dreams are chaotic and often feature Prosciutto and the others prominently which has resulted in some awkward situations when you’re there too.

Melone:

Melone leans on the heavier side of sleeping when he gets around to finding the time to rest. That by itself is a pretty rare occasion.

When he sleeps, he really likes to face you while he falls asleep so if his mind is racing too fast, he can see your peaceful expressions.

He doesn’t speak often while resting but he moves a lot. At the worst, he sleepwalks and at the best, he tosses and turns constantly through the night.

Melone doesn’t think of sleeping as important but if you remind him and ask nicely enough, he’s not going to protest in the slightest.

His dreams are quite vivid but they’re strange and often more self-focused. Sometimes though, he’ll turn around and see you and you’ll warm everything.

Ghiaccio:

Ghiaccio sleeps the most out of all members of La Squadra. He goes to bed the earliest and wakes up the last if nothing interrupts him.

He switches between which positions he favours but he really likes having one of his arms beneath your pillow. Your weight comforts him without being overwhelming.

He is a loud sleeper and if he isn’t snoring, he’s likely speaking. His rants don’t stop in sleep and if you listen, they’re surprisingly coherent.

You can’t convince Ghiaccio to take naps with you unless a job has left him too exhausted to protest. He likes his schedule.

He really doesn’t remember his dreams very well but when you’re there, it’s one of the few times when he remains quiet throughout his sleep.

Sorbet:

Sorbet sleeps deeply every night. He speaks highly of maintaining a constant sleep cycle and encourages everybody around him to try it.

He doesn’t like too much contact while sleeping and the most he’ll give you is a single tangled leg. If you’re an octopus in your sleep though, he won’t mind much.

He makes some strange noises when he’s asleep and the first time you hear them, they will absolutely give you a fright.

You can convince him to nap with you with ease. All it requires is a soft inquiry or a small yawn and he’ll join you on the bed without complaint.

Sorbet remembers all of his dreams in scary detail and he doesn’t frequently enjoy them, abstract as they are, but he always tells you about them if you ask.

Gelato:

Gelato doesn’t sleep for long periods of time, often sustaining himself entirely on short naps, but he’s sometimes willing to sleep at your side if you ask.

He entangles himself with you and wraps his arms and legs around you rather like an octopus, often burying his face into your neck before sleeping.

He doesn’t move much or make any noise but, even when he’s tangled with you, he’s likely not actually asleep. If he does though, he hums softly like he’s serenading you.

If you try and ask him to sleep with you, he’ll encourage you to seek out Sorbet instead unless you really insist. He’s not really able to say no to you.

When Gelato does dream, nightmares chase him almost constantly and he often wakes up in a cold sweat but being with you can sooth him.

[new-tella-us]

Seduce Me Situations

Cause I'm bored!

So we all know that the brothers tend to be concerned about Damien because.... yeah and they all tend to be a little concerned for their wives but do any of the brothers get worried about each other minus Damien?

James tends to be a bit worried about how often Sam puts himself in danger. For as harsh as James can be, he does notice Sam's strengths. He also notices that Sam often throws himself into the fray because he's very strong and fast and makes James concerned. Sam may be the physically strongest but magically he's the weakest and he never seems to take that into consideration. James is worried that Sam will someday get himself really hurt thanks to his impulses.

Erik is usually very solidly concerned about Damien but he can also be concerned about Matthew. He doesn't respect Matthew because, from his perspective, Matthew acts like a child. Erik has a perception that Matthew can be gullible. (though how true this is can be debatable) He's also concerned about Matthew being the physically weakest. Yes he has strong magic but a good punch in the wrong area could break something and that is a relatively reasonable fear.

Sam notices Erik's fakeness more than others as he has clear memories of who Erik once was before he was told to be charming. He also notices some hints of doubt, shame or sadness in Erik that most don't notice. This is pretty rare for Sam as he tends to not be able to read faces well but when he pays extra attention, he can pick up the little details. He really just wants the real Erik back, no matter who that person is now.

Matthew is skeptical about James. Specifically his health. James always seems healthy. He's rarely sick, rarely injured, always at full capacity but barely ever taking time for himself. Sometimes Matthew catches glimpses of James seemingly hunched over the kitchen sink, not looking well but if Matthew makes his presence known James suddenly stands up straight and greets him like nothing happened. Matthew feels like James isn't as healthy as he portrays and he's just a good liar.

Damien is also concerned about Erik but this comes from trauma. Remember he witnessed the event that took out Erik's eye. He watched a demon essentially chuck lava at his brother and blind him. All while he was 14 years old. That's traumatic and it made Erik seem temporary, like Damien could lose his closest friend at any moment.

[lilyacorn]

YANDERE KILLER

Tw: sadistic but falls in love

By the way, the red colored texts are the words he crossed out.

Ex: Love

YANDERE KILLER

He loved the types who have the weakest heart.

They’re the easiest to break and he loved it.

The feeling of control.

He didn’t love it when she would breakdown in his arms.

Little manipulative comments whispered in her ear while she wailed. (That even himself believed)

Telling her how much the world didn’t matter and she didn’t need anyone but him. He started to believe that too

The thought of accomplishment in finally destroying the light in her soul was a better feeling than anything else. (Denial.)

Yet the feeling started becoming bitter…

He didn’t understand anything anymore.

He didn’t understand why he felt guilt for thinking such disgusting fantasies about her.

The feeling of seeing the light in her eyes fade away…

The stabs on her body like everyone else. (Liar.)

He would push the guilt and delude himself with nights planning on what to do with her.

In the end, she was the one who owned his heart.

[dansconcepts]

Venti & Childe Go Buck

Would post this on AO3 but cannot finish it so instead have this drabble where two Liyuen immortals have to deal with their somehow complementary partners' shenanigans. 

Venti snickers. "We really can't have that, can we, oh fellow harbinger?" 

"It certainly would be a shame to let them get away with this…" He says, in a flourished motion, letting cool water glisten into sharpened scythes. 

The accused gulps, sweating profusely under the pair's scrutiny.

A foot away, an adeptus snarls, deep in his throat. His hands clench tightly around a cup still full and otherwise completely undisturbed. It reflected his companion well, who sat watching the scene with sips in-between.

"They weren't supposed to get along." Xiao growls. "How are they getting along?" 

Zhongli sips, delicately placing his teacup down on the wooden surface.

"Xiao." He states, and the yaksha immediately tenses at his name. "It is not as surprising as you may think. After all, they both can be…"

"Idiots?" He spits out. And he immediately winces at his rough tone. He was still amongst Rex Lapis. What was he thinking, speaking so crudely? "My apologies, my lord, I didn't mea-"

The archon stretches out a hand, his lips quirking upward. Xiao's mouth snaps shut. "Ah, I was merely speculating they were best referred to as 'troublesome', yet I suppose that description is not too far off as well."

He hums. "Yes. Observe."

Xiao's eyes peel away to watch the duo once more, one laughing up a storm while the other was itching for a fight from the poor passerby caught in their vision. 

"Oh, if you wish to be spared, offer your mora and food to be shared~!" His lover, the anemo archon, Barbatos, shamelessly rhymes.

It gives Childe pause. Dead eyes narrow at his current partner in crime.

The bard shrugs with a smile. He'd say it was like a cat's that caught the canary, if the bard wasn't allergic to the animal. "What? There isn't much to say. I simply found a business opportunity and couldn't let it slip away!"

"...I offer myself death in exchange for him to stop rhyming." The human sighs. 

Childe nods sagely. "You're making a good sacrifice."

"Hey! My rhyming isn't that atrocious! You're so ferocious!"

Childe splashes some water around. Spares a look at the archon. Looks at the water. Then his eyes glint.

Ugh. What is this mortal about to do?

"You're so certain, huh? Well then. Fight me over it."

The bard wrinkles his nose immediately in distaste. If he wasn't so focused on watching that Fatui scum that also happens to be Rex Lapis' consort for any sudden movements, he'd call the expression (what's the word he hears Venti use often…?) adorable.

Yet from distaste did his features suddenly relax, the hints of a smirk adorning his face. 

"It's not a fight to the death, right?" Venti adds. 

Wait, was his idiot of a lover actually considering to fight against-

"As long as you want it to be!" Childe chirps in. "Wow, I can't lie, I'm excited! You better follow through. I've always wanted to fight an archon, even if it's former. Surely you've still got power in you somewhere. Although I have heard you were the weakest archon…"

"Ehe~! Guess you'll just have to find out!" The archon grins. Childe charges.

Oh fuck no. 

Xiao immediately reaches for his polearm, but before he can fully grasp it, Childe's sent flying.

"Haha!" Venti's laugh chimes like bells. "Another victory for me! Ah, to watch him flee!"

"He didn't flee, Barbatos." Rex Lapis, who has been silent for a while, suddenly speaks.

Venti gulps. Xiao turns to his master, distinctly emanating a strangely menacing aura, and the tells of hiding a grimace.

"Oh, would you look at that! Xiao, it's time we leave after that!" 

"...You used 'that' twice, bard." He says. Y'know, like someone trying to ignore his master's anger. Y'know, like a liar.

Aquamarine eyes turn toward the blazing cor lapis.

"Well, I'm sorry, the mind can become quite distracted when confronted with their demise!"

As if on cue, Rex Lapis began with the devastatingly familiar words, "I WILL HAVE-"

And they whisk themselves away before the meteor falls. 

[dangermousie]

Confession time - My Little Liar is a total surprise for me. The premise didn't really do much for me (woman who can tell when someone is lying lives next door to a man accused of murder) and while I like KSH, her dramas are hit or miss for me, and Minhyun was to me the weakest link in Alchemy of Souls, and I am too old to swoon over his looks.

But - the story is engaging and I adore the two protags. KSH is, as always, rock solid and, miracle of miracles, somewhere between AoS and now, Minhyun has learned to act. And they have lovely chemistry!

Also gotta love how in kdramas romcom means:

It's pretty clear his ex decided to off herself by drowning after he broke up with her and he got suspected of murder and basically I can see why he wears a mask everywhere and hides from people. The thing is, clearly crazy secondary girl knows about it too so for her to call him that she is gonna drown herself because he doesn't want to see her again is horrifying manipulativeness of the worst order. Makes me think of secondary girl in Save the Last Dance. Like - wtf, the emotional cruelty is something else!

He breaks down quite gloriously, sorry not sorry!!!

Awwwww.....